


Bargaining

by lost_spook



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The X-Files
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-29
Updated: 2010-10-29
Packaged: 2017-10-12 23:04:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/130098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_spook/pseuds/lost_spook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So, what sort of bird likes cutting up dead people for fun?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bargaining

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for daibhid_c in an LJ crossover meme.

Dana Scully had reached the point of recording the date and time onto the tape, when her latest autopsy was curtailed by fact of the corpse sitting up and surveying his surroundings with interest.

She switched the tape off and took a cautious step back. Unlike most people, she failed to scream or panic – this kind of thing was beginning to seem normal. Well, this, she amended, was definitely unusual, but not as much as she'd once have thought.

"Bloody hell, it's freezing in here," said the dead guy. "Hate it when this stuff happens. Can't a bloke get knocked out in a bar fight without winding up in the mortuary with some sicko probing about his innards? Might not be, y'know, breathing, but still – blatant prejudice against the undead, that's what it is."

Scully raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, not really," the former corpse said. "You got me. Too busy feeding off the living to worry about the rights of the vampire. Where is this? Doesn't look like your regular sort of hospital to me." He gave Scully an interested look then, turning his head to one side. There was a glint in his eyes that made her repress a desire to take a further step back.

"Care to explain how come you were dead a minute ago, and now you're sitting up and talking to me?"

He smiled. "No, still dead, love. And it's a long story – plenty of passion, blood and death, but not your sort of thing. Goes back a century or so." He hadn't stopped watching her. "You know, it's about now they usually start screaming."

"I've seen worse things than you," she said.

He grinned. "Hey. Thanks. Talking of which, wouldn't mind my clothes back. A sheet's not really my style."

"We didn't think you'd be needing them."

He paused, lifted his head again; the bleached blond hair the brightest thing in the room. "We? Far as I can see, you're alone, love. Alone, in a dark and dingy basement with the big bad. Lucky you."

"You haven't answered my question yet."

He sat up fully, not bothering overmuch about the sheet that was covering him. "Vampire. Get it now? You a doctor? You're much more attractive than the last one I had."

"I am," Scully said, with ice in her tone that lowered the ambient temperature still further. "I'm also an FBI agent, and there's no such thing as vampires."

"Nice. Can't say if I've ever had one of those. Although – no, I have. Bald, sweaty guy, back in the 1970s. Been trying to forget him ever since. Doesn't the whole part where I'm dead but talking give you a clue?"

"Vampire. Seriously?"

He grinned at her, watching her lazily, but there was a gleam in his eyes that reminded her of a cat playing with a mouse, and Scully had a feeling the worst thing she could do would be to run. "Yeah. Spike's the name. William the Bloody if you want to be formal, but I don't usually bother with titles. Just one thing: what sort of bird goes round hanging about in cellars chopping up dead guys for fun?"

Scully watched him back. "It isn't for fun. And vampires don't exist. What we think of as vampires dates back to 19th century fiction and bad movies. Try again."

"Oh," he said, glancing down. "That right, is it?" Then he looked up, his face having morphed into something more demonic, his forehead lumpy; his skin aged and there were teeth – teeth that she had to admit looked far more convincing when he was lunging towards her.

She hit him over the head with the metal tray, several of the other implements flying about, and as he dropped back with a curse, she reached for the longest and the sharpest knife at her disposal and held it, pointing it towards him.

"Hey," he said, and then at least reached for the sheet again. His face had reverted to its more smooth, apparently human façade. "That _hurt_."

Scully remained as calm as she could. "Vampire," she said. "Okay. I'm not sure I believe it yet, but if _you_ do, then I'm guessing decapitation will do it. I've got a crucifix; I'm sure my lunch had some garlic content, and do you know what else I've got?"

"Surprise me."

Scully said, "Your clothes."

"Good point," he said. "That coat's got sentimental value. Where is it, then?"

She held onto the knife. "First, I want your word that you won't kill me."

"Not yet anyway," he said. "Just get me my bloody clothes back. I said it's like the arctic in here."

Scully said, "Fine. First move back. _Then_ I'll get you your clothes."

He sagged suddenly, sitting back on the metal table. "Why does nothing go right anymore? She's left me – Dru – a century of true love and murder, and she leaves. Chaos demon – horrible thing, all antlers and slime. I went back for her, but she laughed, no matter who or what I killed for her. A bloke can only take so much, you know. Now look at me! Can't even murder a lone female in a dark cellar. _Damn_!"

Scully kept a firm hold on the knife, but her eyebrows were on the rise again. A vampire was stretching her credulity further than Mulder had yet managed, but a lovesick, vampire killer with bleached hair? And, of course, Mulder wasn't here. Typical. "I've got your coat, but I'm afraid your other things were too far gone, so hang on while I make a phone call. Make one wrong move, and maybe I'll still dissect you, starting with your head."

"Hey, I like you," he said, brightening disturbingly at the threat.

Scully picked up her mobile phone with her free hand. "Mulder, it's me. Yes. Can you get back here now, and bring a spare set of clothes with you? No, it's for the corpse. Yes, I did say the corpse. Yes, it is urgent."

"Nothing dorky, mind," said Spike. "Bright colours – bit of a vampire no-no. You get laughed at. Doesn't do a thing for your street cred with the really mean demons."

She shut the phone. "Don't push your luck."

"How about you and me?" he asked, the light back in his eyes. "I could sire you, and we'll both have some fun. I don't mind a girl who cuts up stiffs as a hobby, as long as she remembers not to dissect me. You should have seen some of the things Dru got up to. She's gone, and I've always had a thing for red-heads. Come on, don't tell me it's not even a bit tempting?"

Scully had to fight not to roll her eyes. "Not remotely."

"Why does nothing ever work out?" he yelled at her, throwing more items onto the floor. "Everything was just _great_ , and now nothing goes right. And you know why?"

"No, but I'm beginning to get a pretty good idea."

"Because of her," he said, and all the odd charm, the sudden haplessness, had vanished again and she knew that what she had in front of her was completely inhuman – more like a dangerous animal, not to be trusted for an instant.

Then he shrugged, the mood passing. He even gave her a hopeful smile. "Don't suppose you've got a fag handy?"

Scully raised an eyebrow.

"You see?" he said. "Nothing ever works out!"

*

"A vampire?" said Mulder, once he finally returned.

She folded her arms. "So it said."

"I've heard that before."

Scully sighed. "Well, he was talking and moving around while dead, and I have to concede that the teeth were convincing."

"It is dark in here."

She glared. "Anyway, you took your time."

"You know how it is," Mulder said. "There's the clothes, but if he's gone, I suppose it's too late. What is he wearing?"

Scully glanced at the boiler suit he'd put on to go underground and investigate the old mine, and said, "Yours."


End file.
